


Superhero Blues

by AuroraKant



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, But She is a Great Sister, Dick Grayson-centric, Drinking to Cope, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Stephanie Brown is NOT a Good Therapist, YeetDC2020, of a minor character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24981883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/pseuds/AuroraKant
Summary: His tears had dried up half an hour ago, back when Dick had still been drinking beer. Now, a few shots of really, really disgustingly cheap vodka later, all he could do was whisper about his past misgivings, the sounds of the pub behind him a fitting backdrop to his misery.Or: Dick tries to wallow in self-pity after a disastrous patrol up until Steph decides to offer him her companionship
Relationships: Stephanie Brown & Dick Grayson
Comments: 22
Kudos: 94
Collections: Gotham Square (Batfam Discord Fics)





	Superhero Blues

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ScreamingBean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreamingBean/gifts), [sElkieNight60](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sElkieNight60/gifts).



> Heya!   
> I am back with a prompt that I've written!  
> I hope you guys enjoy it!   
> Feedback, Kudos, Bookmarks and your love makes me extremely happy! And Drink Safely Kids! ;D

“And you know what the worst part is? I never even got a chance to say goodbye…”

His tears had dried up half an hour ago, back when Dick had still been drinking beer. Now, a few shots of really, really disgustingly cheap vodka later, all he could do was whisper about his past misgivings, the sounds of the pub behind him a fitting backdrop to his misery.

Dick wasn’t even sure if the bartender was listening anymore. Not that it mattered. Nobody ever listened to him. And why would they? He only let them down. He only let them die.

Like that little girl on patrol tonight…

No! Dick wouldn’t let his mind go there. It was bad enough already with the bodies of his siblings decorating every place his eyes landed on, his mindscape a carnage of past mistakes.

“They had already lost so much… and then I went and died. Got better as you can see, but, the damage was done… but I couldn’t save them… couldn’t save that girl…”

It flashed in front of his eyes once more: the scared robber who had grabbed one of the hostages in a moment of panic before he fled towards the roof, the moment the man stumbled and fell… the moment the little girl kept on falling.

Dick had jumped forward, his hand outstretched, but when his body hit the edge of the roof all he could do was watch as the scared face of a child vanished from his view, replaced by a dull thump as she hit the ground – and Dick was back in the circus. In a warehouse in Ethiopia. In the lobby of Wayne Tower. In Gotham and the Cave. Again and Again.

Dick was old enough to know how to deal with trauma, with flashbacks and with guilt, but today it had hit him all at once.

It wasn’t just his parents he saw falling next to the little girl ( ** _his fault_** _, his fault, ~~his fault~~_ ), it was Damian as well, Jason, Tim, Bruce, Cass… all of them falling. All of them dying. Just because of him. Just because Nightwing was never enough and Dick Grayson a farce.

If he stared long enough at the glasses arranged in front of him, he could almost imagine them being stand-ins for his family. The tall, broad beer bottle would be Bruce and the shot glass next to his left-hand would be Damian. They both looked like they were judging him. 

And they should.

The girl had died because of him.

The robber had never wanted to drop her, Dick had forced him to take a hostage when he failed to apprehend the dude the moment he had entered the bank – but he had hesitated for a moment and the girl had paid for it.

Dick didn’t even know her name.

She would always just stay _the girl_ in his head, and yet he would never forget her. Could never forget a face when it died in front of him, because of him.

“I only ever come too late… what a fate… hah! That rhymed!”

The bartender continued to ignore him, as Dick continued to stare down the bottles in front of him. The cool counter beneath his hands failed at keeping his head in the present, his mind on the task of getting intoxicated beyond reason.

“Another one of these, please!”

Maybe the bartender would hear that.

“Make it two!”

A new voice had joined the mess in his head, and it was a voice Dick knew. His head was heavy when he dragged it upwards, his eyes finding the purple-clad woman rather quickly. She smiled when the bartender nodded, and her hands were warm when she slapped his shoulder in a jovial greeting:

“Dickie-bird! Long time no see.”

“What are you doing here?”

“No Hello? Well, judging by your level of intoxication, I don’t have to wonder why.”

Dick was tempted to just turn around, to maybe give into the urge of just letting his head rest on the counter, but her presence could mean only one thing: The family knew that he was here. And if that was the case his alcohol induced peace would be interrupted sooner rather than later.

Stop.

It already had been interrupted. Stephanie was already here. But the next person to check in could be someone else, someone who would make this attempt to self-flagellate ten-times worse. Bruce, maybe, and his disappointed gait, or Tim, and his horror at the brokenness of the place Dick had chosen to fall apart in.

“Why are you here?”

All in all, Steph wasn’t the worst person to find you drinking in a shitty Gotham hole-in-the-wall bar.

“Babs checked your logs and saw that you went dark after… after what happened on the roof of the National Bank. She was worried.”

“So, the whole family is flying around now, ready to tell me that I fucked up?”

Dick stared at the shots that had appeared in front of them, and even without actually seeing her, he could feel Steph roll her eyes next to him:

“No, you daft idiot. Babs only sent me and Cass. She knows what she has to do, to not hurt your fragile masculine Bat-feelings.”

“Hn.”

“That’s what I'm talking about!”

Her exasperation was for show, and Dick could feel it working, a small smile tugging at his lips. He raised his own shot of vodka, meeting hers halfway on its journey to their respective mouths, and said:

“To my massive and continuous failures! And cheap alcohol!”

“I feel legally obliged to tell you that it was not your fault and that wallowing in self-pity will get you nowhere. And Cheers!”

They both swallowed at the same time, Dick by now used to the cheap burn and crap taste, Steph next to him almost choking when the disgusting liquid hit her throat. It was funny to see her struggle and cough and glare, a bit of petty revenge for his hurt _Fragile Masculine Bat-Feelings_.

“Asshole… you could have warned me…”

“Hn.”

"idiot..."

A pause and then she had turned around, her hand raised, asking for attention:

“Another round! And make it double!”

Steph didn’t wait for him to say something intelligent or funny – though it was up for interpretation if he was even still capable of it – before she ordered another round. And another one after that.

They sat in silence for a bit, and with each shot, the alcohol tasted less disgusting, and his stomach got a bit warmer. The fuzziness of his mind had grown quite strong when he finally turned to Steph, a slight slur in his voice, and said:

“Why aren’t you telling me that everything will be alright. Or that it isn’t my fault?”

“Would you want me to?”

“Eh… I don’t know--- probably not”

“There you have it…”

There was a wrinkle between her brows, and Steph was nursing a glass of water in her hands, Dick had no idea how she had gotten. Her tone was soft when she spoke next:

“Babs will yell at you out of worry when you show your face again tomorrow and Bruce and the boys will hover while trying to not to be overbearing… everyone will tell you that it was not your fault. And just as you are not crying just because of this one girl, but because of all the other people lost as well, they won’t only mean the girl either, when they tell you that everything will be alright. But you won’t believe them.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I never believed them as well. People can tell you that it isn’t your fault a thousand times, but unless you start to allow yourself to believe it, it is all a pile of shit. So, we are taking the Stephanie Brown route on getting you back on your feet. It is patented and all.”

A drop of condensation was running down the side of Steph’s glass. It was easier to focus on that, than Stephanie’s earnest smile. She wanted to help him. Now, the only question was if Dick wanted to be helped. If he wanted to be saved, even if he had been unable to save others.

“And what is the Stephanie Brown patent?”

“Well, Step One is rather easy: Get absolutely fucking wasted and wallow in your own self-hatred. Step Two is a hangover so bad you swear to never drink again ever in your life. And Step Three is a brunch with me in the best waffle house Gotham can offer, copious amounts of sugar, and a foot massage later that day. Maybe a manicure as well, my nails look horrible.”

Dick looked at his own nails and found them chipped and ugly. He could go for a manicure as well. And another shot of vodka.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Nice. Bartender? Another round!”

They would drink another shot, and Dick would cry again later, but while he was ready to fall, Stephanie would be there to look after him, was there to catch him if he stumbled and fell.

He wanted to feel whole again and happy and trustworthy and loved. He wanted…

“I don’t even particularly like waffles…”

“What! A disgrace, Dick, horrible… now we really need to go! I have to convert you! Not like waffles! Blasphemy! Bartender? We need the strong stuff! And a priest!”


End file.
